


January Writing Prompts 2021

by Ixalia (madcat)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madcat/pseuds/Ixalia
Summary: A collection of ficlets based upon a list of creative writing prompts. Each day's prompt response will vary in terms of characters, style of prose etc. Some chapters are deliberately vague as to pairing/fandom, most are my own characters from original settings or various TTRPG games.
Kudos: 3





	1. Happy New Year

The party was swinging in full force as she slipped out through the side door. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been having fun, there were enough people there that she considered friends that the level of noise and press of people hadn’t been as painful as it usually would. And although a party of this size wasn’t really her thing, she had been enjoying herself.

To a degree.

Not so much that she hadn’t eventually started craving a little fresh air and some quiet space.

She’d waited until Elizabeth had finished her speech and the latest round of food had emerged from the kitchen, platters being passed around and providing a suitable distraction, before she’d slipped quietly towards the edge of the crowd.

The side door leads to a short corridor which she knows in turn leads to one of the lesser used balconies, perfect for a little peace and quiet.

She does, however, have the presence of mind to make sure that no one else has sought out the balcony as a quiet place before her. The last thing she wants to do is ruin someone else’s evening.

Fortunately the balcony is unoccupied. It’s because it’s less attractive than some of the others, she supposes, larger and more exposed to the wind and without the view over the city that the others provide. Still, if that means that she’s going to get some peace and quiet for a few moments, she’ll take it.

Besides, the breeze isn’t as cold as it might be in other places at this time of year, and she’s honestly quite glad of the freshness provided after the somewhat stifling warmth of the hall.

She leans happily against the balcony, letting the breeze and the quiet wash over her and return her to something approaching mental equilibrium for a moment. 

She tenses slightly as she hears the door slide open a few moments later, bringing with it a loud burst of noise carried along the corridor from the party within, and she braces herself for it to be someone trying to make conversation with her and intruding onto her solitude.

She only allows herself to relax once she realises who it is.

There are several slow steps across the balcony, he’s obviously not completely sure that he’ll be welcome here right now, before a hand appears in the corner of her vision, holding out a delicate glass flute filled with a sparkling liquid.

She turns at that, smiling as she takes the glass and nods in thanks.

He relaxes then, knowing her well enough by now to know that sometimes she just doesn’t feel the need to fill the space with meaningless chatter. She finds it endearing that he’s so willing to accommodate her in that when he himself is more prone to talking to fill a silence.

The noise from within swells loud enough for a moment that it reaches through the walls and the space between the balcony and the hall.

“Happy New Year,” he says quietly, offering her a small, contented-looking smile.

“Happy New Year,” she returns, quietly chinking their glasses together with a smile of her own.


	2. New Beginnings

It takes a good three weeks after Rina’s death before their subconscious finally decides that it’s safe enough to rest for a while. Three weeks of running and changing faces and never letting their guard down for a moment.

They’d burned Naomi before leaving town, both metaphorically and literally. That was the best and easiest way to stay safe, no matter how painful it was after settling into Naomi, making a life, making friends.

She’d spent a frantic half hour scouring the gutters of Basalchin Port, finally finding a body that had been left for dead after some sort of scuffle. Their general build was close enough to Naomi’s that her clothes fit well enough for them to look similar to Naomi at a quick glance. She dragged the poor unfortunate into a nearby huddle of abandoned crates and fishing nets, doused the whole lot in oil and stuck a torch into the mess.

Dropping Rina’s pendant into the fire had been hard, but she knew that it was the best way to convince people that the burned beyond recognition body that would be left behind was that of Naomi. 

With a little luck, they would assume that Naomi had been caught up in some trouble on the docks and had been killed in the process. With a little more luck, they would count her death as a blessing considering everything she knew about what they were doing, would consider it one less loose end to tie up.

So they’d shifted out of Naomi’s face for the final time, pulled on a mask, “burgled” Naomi’s flat to steal anything that had value and was difficult to trace once sold, and had joined a caravan headed west.

They’d dropped that mask, took up another one and joined another caravan as soon as they’d reached the first decent sized village along the road. This caravan led north and offered them the opportunity of acting as a paid guard, so they’d stuck with that one until it reached a larger town before they dropped that mask and picked up a third.

They’d continued this process as they made their way a good few hundred miles from Naomi’s life. It had led eventually to this small town just over the border and into Chillas. 

Crossing the border without papers had been one of the more straightforward parts of the whole thing. They’d retreated into Asa for long enough to remember her properly, giving her the time needed to craft a set of papers that would pass the brief inspection that was all the border guards had time for at this busy crossing. 

Asa’s obvious respectability, combined with the forged paperwork and the cluster of people all impatiently waiting to cross the border, had allowed her to cross with little trouble.

As soon as she was out of sight of the guards, Asa had been pushed back in favour of a mask resembling one of the rough looking young men that had been on that first caravan out of Basalchin. He was a hundred or more miles away, he wouldn’t care that they were borrowing his face.

He looked rough enough that no one had bothered him as he crept through town, carefully searching the alleyways and rougher sections of town to find what he was looking for. Eventually he stumbled across an abandoned house on the outskirts of town, damaged enough that no one else was interested in claiming it, but intact enough that he could sneak into the attic with minimal effort.

It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it was safe enough for the moment that they could risk a few hours of sleep. Enough to recover some strength before they set about the difficult task of building a whole new persona.

A new persona, a new name, a new face… a new beginning.


	3. Resolutions

It was all supposed to be a straightforward job: deal with the bandits, stop them terrorising the local villages and find the satisfaction of a good job, well done. Taking down the leader was supposed to be the end of it.

Slightly less officially, it was also supposed to be an end to everything that had been following her since Meerska. A case of tying up that last loose end, to make sure that these bandits couldn’t do to anyone else what had been done that day.

The bandits at least would not hurt anyone else. The local villages were safe from their raids and she’d finished her first assignment from the Temple with a resounding success.

And yet, standing there in the ruins of the kitchen, all she really feels is empty. 

A sudden noise from one side drags her rudely out of her thoughts, and her hand grips her mace a little more firmly as she turns her attention back to the room around her. 

She relaxes again with a small smile at her paranoia once she realises that it’s just Cabot searching through the shreds of paperwork on the nearby desk. 

The Temple council probably wouldn’t approve of her working with a supposed ‘outsider’ like this, but she’s quietly added that to the list of things that are ‘different’ outside of Vasselheim.

And by different, she’s pretty sure she means better, but she’s very carefully not thinking that sort of thing too loudly right now.

She glances around the room again, one final check that the bandits are indeed as dead as she thought they were, before she feels her stomach turn unpleasantly. It’s takes her less than a second to decide that she really doesn’t want to be in here any more, and she doesn’t even spare Cabot a word as she heads for the door before her stomach rebels a little more disastrously.

The sun has set at some point while they were clearing out the old farmhouse, it has dipped down behind the nearby hills and now casts everything around her in shades of blue and gold. It makes it seem… peaceful almost. 

If she’s being completely honest, it’s more than a little jarring against the memory of the violence that had occurred just a quarter hour before, so she fixes her attention on her breathing, centring herself the way that Ianric had taught her.

She stands there for several moments before there’s a deliberate sounding step behind her, which is followed by the noise of someone scuffing their boots roughly against the cobbles of the yard so as not to startle her.

She opens her eyes and turns her head to look at Cabot with a small smile.

“I’m fine,” she says, well aware that that’s a lie. 

Cabot, bless him, doesn’t call her on it, just raises an eyebrow and lets it go with a movement that’s half nod, half shrug. He moves instead to stand beside her and lifts the bundle of letters that’s in his hand, wiggling them slightly as if to punctuate what he says next.

“I’m not sure how to break it to you, what with your bosses being so determined that these bandits are the only problem here, but, well…” He trails off with an awkward shrug.

“But you’ve found evidence that there’s more going on.” She finishes. 

He’d mentioned the possibility a few days before and, while she still wasn’t completely sure he was right, he had enough evidence to back up his theories that she was starting to believe him. 

“‘Fraid so.” Another shrug. “Not that I think your lot will do much about it.”

“I’ve told them that you’re helping me.” She can’t help but prickle at the insinuation despite a nagging feeling that he’s probably right about this too. “If you go to Vasselheim, speak to Ianric, he’ll help you. I know he will.”

“I’ll keep it in reserve.” It sounds placating and she opens her mouth to say something else but he carries on talking. “Besides, I thought you were being reassigned after this was finished with.”

“I’m to report to the Temple in Emon as soon as I can.” And she needs to get better at hiding how unimpressed she is about that given the way Cabot snorts in amusement. “Yes, yes, I’m a terrible Paladin, I know.”

He pokes her in one armoured shoulder at that, his fingernail clicking quietly against the chain links.

“You know I don’t think that, Lina.” 

He sounds sincere enough, looks it too as she glances over at him, so she just shrugs, pretty certain where this is going next.

“I just wonder if you’re sure that you want to keep going on this whole vengeance thing.” He sighs, bumping their shoulders together this time. “I know why you said you’re doing this, but did any of this really make you feel better.”

“Cabot.” They’ve had this conversation what feels like every other day over the past couple of weeks.

“I know, I know, I’m just a lowly sorcerer—”

“And you know _I_ don’t think like that.” She cuts him off. “But I need to do this… or at least I need to try. It’s hard to explain, I know, but I feel like I’m doing _something_ now and so many of them back there were—” She stops herself from finishing that sentence, it feels too much like blasphemy.

“I know,” he sighs, “You’re headed off to Emon then?”

“In the next few days, once I’m sure we’ve cleared this up properly.” She lets him change the subject. “You’ll let me know how all of this goes, yes?”

“And miss the opportunity to tell you that I was right? Perish the thought.” He offers her a grin at that. “Come on then, lets finish the clean up here and see if we can make it back to the village before dark. Besides, I’m pretty sure I owe you dinner for covering my sorry backside earlier.”

He shoots her another grin at that before he turns to head back into the farmhouse. 

They’ll drag the bodies out and clear up as best that her hard work and his magic will allow before building a pyre for the dead bandits. Not that she expects anyone to come back to this farm, but it’s the least they can do to help reassure the local villagers.

After that, well, Emon does beckon, and as much as she really would prefer not to go, that’s one order from the Temple that she can’t ignore.


	4. Cold

Someone has draped a blanket over her shoulders at some point, though whether that’s some sort of nod to the weather or for shock or something, she’s not sure. Everything is so cold anyway that the blanket seems of little use. 

She’s aware that people are bustling around her, checking the buildings, offering aid, putting out fires. She knows that she should move, get up and help, knows that kneeling here in the dirt and the snow is pointless… but the flames that are still working their way up the side of the house paralyse her and leave her cold.


	5. Snow Storm

There’s nothing quite so indulgent as curling up in front of the fire, a warm drink in hand, as you watch the snow falling outside.

The first flakes had fallen a couple of hours earlier, just as she’d been leaving Nora’s house. Big, fat fluffy things that had made the little ones squeal with joy and had sent Nora’s husband rushing to gather the chickens into their coop, grumbling under his breath the whole time. 

She’d given the new babe an only slightly rushed pronouncement of perfect health and had hurried out, wanting to get back home before it started coming down properly. 

She’d not bothered faffing about with the cart when she’d set out on her rounds earlier that afternoon, thinking that she’d be back well before the predicted bad weather came through, and besides, she’d never been particularly comfortable riding the pony, much to Mia’s amusement over the years.

Luckily the worst had held off until she was in sight of the farm house, though she’d promptly been dragged in to helping Mia herd the last of the cows into the barn for extra warmth. The chickens would no doubt be unimpressed by it all, but they’d be warm and dry so they could put up with the cows for a while.

Mia would no doubt have a much more nuanced argument about the whole thing, but as far as _she_ was concerned, so long as the livestock was healthy, dry and well fed, they could put up with the other inconveniences just like everyone else did.

Still, it was enough to settle them for now, and she’d cheerfully left Mia to bring in the firewood whilst she went inside, out of the weather and in search of something more comfortable than her old work clothes.

A change of clothes and a large mug of tea apiece, and they’d settled in front of the fire for “five minutes” until they’d both warmed up.

In reality they’d been sat here for a good half hour, long enough for her to have finished her tea and turn her attention towards watching the snow fall beyond the living room window rather than being focused on the fire cracking in the hearth.

Long enough for Mia to had fallen asleep beside her, feet tucked up under her and her head on Aggie’s shoulder as she snored quietly.

And even if the weather hadn’t turned so sour, that alone would be enough to keep her right where she is.


	6. Midnight

She can hear the town clock chiming faintly in the distance as she finally breaks through the edge of the tree line and stops moving.

The fields stretch out for what seems like miles beyond the edge of the forest, silvery grey and drained of all other colours in the moonlight as they slip gently down the hill and towards the river. She’d discovered this view quite by accident a couple of years ago and, though she’s sure others have seen the same view on more than one occasion, it’s always felt special to her. 

It makes her feel both really small and really big all at the same time, standing there with the wall of trees at her back and so much open possibility in front of her. 

She knows she can’t stand there for long, it’s late and cold and Gretta will likely notice she’s gone at some point if she isn’t careful.

And she doesn’t want another lecture about responsibility and walking through the forest on her own after dark. Though, really, it’s not like she’s in any danger; there’s nothing larger than a fox in this area of the forest, and they’re going to be much more scared of her than she is of them.

Still, no matter how magical the view is at this time of night, and on a full moon to boot, it’s not worth the hours of lectures and chores. And it’ll still be here tomorrow, in the daylight, when the colour will be back but half the mystery has gone, still beautiful but in a whole other way.

She’s still going to give it another moment before heading back, she’s got a little bit of time before she gets in trouble.


	7. Hangover

Whoever forgot to close the blinds properly the night before was going to get dragged outside, lined up against the closest wall, and shot.

Granted, there’s a 50:50 chance that she only has herself to blame, but honestly, considering the sour taste in her mouth, the churning of her stomach and the feeling that someone is trying to drive needles into her eyes every time she so much as thinks about blinking, the possibility of being put out of her misery isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

There’s a stir of movement from next to her, followed by a pained groan.

At least she wasn’t alone in feeling like absolute hell this morning… not that that was much of a comfort, really, but she’d take anything at this stage.

“Turn off the sun.” Comes the comment from beside her a moment later, the noise muffled as if Mia is refusing to life her head up out of the pillow

“Someone forgot to shut the blind.” She points out, probably unnecessarily considering all the light in the bedroom, but she’s still refusing to open her eyes… or to move. Moving is going to be bad.

“That wasn’t me.” The denial lacks a certain level of conviction.

“You sure?”

There’s a pause.

“No?”

“We can split the blame.” She decides, not completely convinced that the blinds being open isn’t down to her own stupidity rather than Mia’s.

“Can you split some healing?” Mia mutters, sounding almost precisely as wretched as Aggie feels.

“I can’t even open my eyes, what do you think.”

“I think this is your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

“You’re the one that wanted to celebrate.”

“And you’re the one that did something worth celebrating.”

“Splitting the blame on that too?” 

“Yeah, sure, why not.” She pauses, considers. “But I’m not moving until the goblin inside my head stops trying to drill it’s way out through my left eye.”

“Me neither.” Mia agrees shuffling around in the bed until she can rest what feels like her forehead against Aggie’s shoulder. “Fucking good party though.”


	8. Hangover

Most of the evening turns into a blur midway through. 

There’s a definite memory of alcohol and dancing… there might even have been some sort of play-fight with sticks at one point, both she and Herrick balancing along the top of the wall and trying to knock one another into the dirt.

She’s pretty sure she won that particular nonsense.

Later there’s good food, good company and more dancing. She’s pretty sure she ended up slow-dancing with Mia in front of everyone at one point, not that she really cares except it does nothing for her hardass reputation.


	9. Hiking

The fight had been short but brutal, and as she leaves the burning farmhouse, she very quickly gets to the stage of just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. 

The hilt of the sword is slippery in her hand, and she tightens her grip as best she can. Her armour is getting heavier by the moment and she can feel something warm starting to move down her side beneath the chain mail that feels suspiciously like blood.

So, she just keeps placing one foot in front of the other, each movement one step closer to safety.


End file.
